


Right Now

by jendavis



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Coming Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-07
Updated: 2010-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jendavis/pseuds/jendavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronon's mother comes to Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Now

  
**1.**

 _John's watching, right now, like he did those first few days when you came to his city. When the floors were too loud and the walls too solid and every single person was the same as yesterday._

He watches like you haven't killed any of his people, but you just might start. Or worse, like you're supposed to have some answers by now.

Like he knows he should have killed you when he had the chance. Just like he knows he can't let you leave. Or like he wants you to prove him wrong, only you can't, because none of this is as real as coming back to life a hundred times in a day.  
\---

"How's he doing?" Woolsey's voice comes from Sheppard's blind spot, but he doesn't turn from where he's watching Ronon, down the hallway, stalking out of the gym. Watching Sergeant Malone, a moment later, heading the other way and holding a towel to his bloody nose.

"Oh, fine. Only three weeks back and he's _already_ a delight to be around," Sheppard drawls, sets his shoulders, smirks without humor. He follows Woolsey's nod back towards the transporter, and says nothing until they're seated in his office, watching the gate out of the corner of his eye.

"He's doing better," he begins again. "Physically, he's fine, but the wraith getting into his head, it's screwing with him. Might for a while." _He's barely talking to me, and I don't know what to do. Just waiting for some switch to be flipped._

"So you want to keep him grounded for a little while longer?"

"Yes," John nods, feels like a traitor. "Right now, he's pissed off at himself. I put him back in the field, it's going to rub off onto McKay, and maybe even Teyla. We don't need that distraction right now." _He's got the fear, and I've seen how it spreads_ , he amends in his head, but Woolsey doesn't need to hear it.

Sheppard begins to tip back in his chair, stops himself, not wanting to look even more unprofessional than he already feels. "McKay could use the time in the labs, and Teyla and Kanaan are still at the Athosian settlement, and won't be back for a few more days." _They're excuses and I know it, but we owe him more than three weeks_. "I'd say we give it another week."

"Before he's ready for field missions?"

"Yes." Sheppard drums his fingers on his arm. "And I'd like to keep the rest of the team grounded as much as possible until he's back with us, or until we're actually forced by circumstance to make other arrangements." Woolsey looked askance at this, like he was about to make a suggestion, so Sheppard hurries onward to explain. "Right now, sir, I don't want him seeing us going through the gate without him. It's a trust thing."

"I understand." Woolsey contemplates his tablet for a few moments, pulling up the upcoming rotation schedule. "Is there enough time to redistribute the workload without exhausting the other teams?"

"Yes."

"All right then. You'll let me see the new schedule before you finalize anything?"

"Sure thing," Sheppard begins to stand, hears the gate powering up, probably Lorne's team dialing in. "We good here?"

"One last thing, just something to keep in mind. It may do him some good to talk to someone, other than yourself, about this."

"You think he will?"

"Right now, I think we owe him the chance to decide, don't you?"  
\---

"Everything's fine on Bavno, nothing to worry about," Lorne says, squinting to the MALP's camera. "But I'm coming through, Sir. Need talk to you for a second about something."

Ten minutes later, Lorne's heading back towards his quarters, Woolsey's satisfied that Sheppard's plan to fill in for the rest of the afternoon, agreeing that no, the rest of the team doesn't need to be notified. Not on such short notice.

Sheppard returns to his quarters to grab a few things, and is just leaving when he runs into Ronon, standing in the hallway like he's waiting.

"Hey, Chewie. What's up?"

"You going offworld?"

"Yeah. Need to take over for Lorne, he's sick."

"Want some backup?"

"Sorry, but this is a solo thing," John curses his timing and pretends not to see the irritation flashing across Ronon's face. _This is everything I don't want_ , he thinks, and wonders if Ronon's able to read it in his face. "Make it up to you when I get back. It'll only be a few hours or so, okay? We'll grab dinner."

It's weak, and he knows it, but he's got things to do, and it's all he can afford right now.  
\---

Ronon's waiting at the bottom of the steps when John gates back through with Lorne's team. Watches him run through the highlight reel of the trip to Bavno.

John's smirking at Lorne because of some inside joke, some secret. Something Ronon, once, would have been in on, that he doesn't want to see from the outside.

He shifts his shoulder away from the wall he's backed into, because he doesn't need to stand here and see it so plainly, that he fits here even less than he used to, that Sheppard's better off with people he knows he can trust, that trust him.

But John's looking at him like he's reading the thoughts straight out of his head. Like he can see his day's history, his pacing, his thoughts, his anger, and John falters. Takes an abortive step towards him, then away, all over again, but this time, he's only heading for the locker room.

He walks like he knows Ronon's following him. Like he knows Ronon better than Ronon knows himself, and the idea of it wouldn't have rankled, not before all this. Not before Ronon hadn't known how to put himself together again. But then John turns, gives him this look as he's shutting the locker door, like he wants to apologize, like he wants to fix everything, and worse, like he's just figured out how all the pieces fit.

But the bastard won't say anything. Just asks, casually, if he's eaten dinner yet. If he wants to go see the movie they're showing in the lounge, something about constantly gardening. Sounds horrible, especially because he knows John's trying to use it as an excuse. Putting him off, blocking him out, and John looks guilty, like he knows he's doing it too, but doesn't plan on stopping.

But John's still following him, to the mess, through dinner, and now. Back to his room and he's letting the door slide shut behind him and he's stepping close, and maybe he'll finally say something real, but Ronon's not sure what words will even work anymore.  
\---

"I get it," Ronon finally speaks. "I know I'm not ready to help out on missions."

"Okay," is all John says, like he wishes he didn't agree.

"Just. If you don't, I get it. But I need to know if you trust me, at all."

"I do. That." John steps into his space, swivels his face nearer to Ronon's. "Earlier. It wasn't about trusting you or not trusting you. It was about not getting your hopes up." _Because I'm trying to help you, and I know we're fucked right now, and I'm breaking your heart like you're breaking mine, but I won't do it to you twice._

"And now?"

"Do you trust me?"

Ronon scowls across the room, nods, wonders if he's being honest. But John's right there again, his hand is on his jaw, and it's forcing him to look. Forcing him to watch John read him, so focused with concern that Ronon's starting to worry, because John? John shouldn't have to look at anyone this way, like he's trying to figure out if the world's really falling through his fingers.

Ronon can't be the reason for that, and it's the first decision he's making since the last time he died, and something's becoming untwisted, in his gut, in his spine, and he's leaning his head forward, and John's starting to smile back at him, like he's hopeful.

And it feels like they're skipping ahead, like they're missing something, but the thought's lost too soon to notice.

It's the first time in this life that Ronon's kissed anyone, and it feels different than their kisses from a hundred deaths ago, but it's familiar like nothing else.  
\---

"I've got to go out again today for a few hours," John says quietly as he dresses, because it's too early for this, and too early for louder voices. "But when I get back, we'll get things sorted out."

Ronon nods into the pillow, closes his eyes again, and tries to ignore the dread threading again through his chest. But then John presses a kiss into his jaw, yawns "I love you, go back to sleep," into his ear, and pulls a little of the fear away with him when he leaves.  
\---

Ronon notices John hovering in the gym doorway, pretends he doesn't until he finishes his last set. "What's up?"

"There's someone you need to meet." John nods towards the door, and with his chin jutting up like that, Ronon almost misses the apprehension in John's eyes as they glance off of him. Almost notices that John doesn't say _there's someone I want you to meet._  Just grabs his gear and follows him out.

When they approach the lounge, Ronon hears voices inside, people talking, and his name being spoken, but he still can't guess if this is his trial or his sentencing. He feels betrayed, for a moment, like John should have warned him, should have talked to him first. But Ronon isn't sure he has the right to demand anything, not out here. From John, maybe, but not from Sheppard.

Woolsey steps out into the hallway, looking uncomfortable, smiling warily, like he wants to say something, but didn't have time to prepare the notes.

Then John opens the door, and waves Ronon inside.  
\---

Ronon's first glance finds the target, and he draws his gun before John can realize that it's all gone wrong. Fires before the single questioning word falls from his mouth, and he stares, wild-eyed, at what he's done.

 **2.**

John shoves Ronon out of the way, taps his radio on as he drops to his knees, checking her pulse. Gets through to the infirmary, does everything he's supposed to do, because he hadn't done anything he was supposed to the first time around. Like think this shit through.

 _So. Fucking. Stupid._

When he turns back he knows that Ronon's already gone, but the medics are already arriving, already preparing to take Ronon's mother- she's only unconscious- stunned, he's checked already- down to the infirmary.  
\---

Ronon's not in his quarters, he's not anywhere in the city. Sheppard has to grab a scanner, finds one life sign already out at the edge of the city, and he's not sure yet, but it's the most logical guess, so he begins to walk.

He scuffs his boots deliberately as he draws near, knowing that he's already blown Ronon's trust at least once today. _And his mother's too. Nice work, John_. Doesn't need to startle him twice. Makes sure his approach is heard, wondering just who it is he's trying to protect, here.

Ronon's got his back against the wall of the easternmost tower, but he's still standing. Arms crossed, he's glancing away from John already, starts to shake his head.

Ronon sighs, sounds annoyed. "What the hell was that?"

"That was your mother."

"My mother died a long time ago."

"As far as you know," John amends, tries to sound more certain than apologetic. "Sit down, I'll tell you about it."  
\---

"Lorne's team was back on Bavno again, you know. Helping with the Ancient translations the locals hadn't figured out yet. He's there with Doctor Shermer, you know, the linguist?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Shermer met this woman, a refugee from Sateda, and started asking some questions. Finds out her surname was Dex and that she lost her son about ten years ago. Shermer asked Lorne about it, because she wasn't sure she should say anything, and Lorne decided likewise, so he farmed it over to me."

"That was yesterday?"

"Yeah. I went out there today with some photos, managed to make her not freak out, and probably broke about seventeen quarantine protocols getting her here, but Woolsey's a softer touch than you'd think."

"What if it's. If she's a. You know."

"A wraithworshipper? She didn't sound like one. Asked around with her neighbors, checked her out before I talked to her. Made sure she wasn't a threat, even if she does share your sense of humor, and probably was the one to teach you how to hide knives all over the place."  
\---

Right now, Ronon's glaring out over the water like it's not supposed to be this bright during the day, because it's distracting. He just needs a minute to think.

Eventually, he cuts his eyes towards Sheppard. "You're serious." He's not asking anymore, but he's not hoping yet, either, like it still doesn't feel real.

"Yes."

He's straightening his spine now, steeling himself for the answer. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just didn't want to get your hopes up." I _knew it would fuck with you if it all fell through, a lot more than either of us are gonna say._ "After that, I guess I just wanted to surprise you."

"Don't like surprises."

"No shit," John shrugs, wonders if he should tell him the rest, the things that've been lurking in his brain ever since he got back. _This might make you leave, go away with her, because we're both too fucked right now for you to want to stay_. He also doesn't say this was supposed to be the grand gesture that was going to fix everything, but now I'm not so sure. He does say, "I'm really fucking sorry," because he knows he means that, at least.

But he's not ready to hear Ronon's laughter, even as manic as it is. Finally laughs along and gives him this look like he's insane, the same one he's been wanting to shoot him for three weeks now.

"Sorry? You brought my mom back." Ronon shakes his head, and he's still grinning, because he's forgotten how messed things are. Just for a moment, he's trusting John again, who feels like it might stick this time, but he trails off again. He's lost in thought for a while.

"I never even looked for her," he admits at length, pursing his lips and shaking his head, casting his eyeroll up towards the sky like he knows exactly how badly he fucked up, and doesn't need John to remind him.

"You didn't know she was still there to be _found_."

"I should have looked anyway. She's my mother. She raised me better than this, you know," Ronon rubs his hand over his face. He's trying to clear his head of the admission.

"Think she raised you just fine," John shrugs, but he's pretty sure he understands enough.

"I _shot_ her, John. That _is_ fucked up, right?"

"Yes, but you only stunned her. Which _is_ still fucked up. But you wouldn't have if I warned you about it."

"You shouldn't have had to."

"Well, fine. You shot your mom, and she's going to be pissed when she wakes up. But she is going to wake up. Probably pretty soon. We should get you down there."

Ronon stands up, scratches at his side. Reaches down to help John stand like he's forgotten about shying away. "Right."

Ronon leads the way back towards the city, but his steps slow once they're inside. Keller's on the radio, now, and she's telling Sheppard that Ms. Dex is awake, that she's being released to the guest quarters. John tries to step up their pace, but Ronon's hesitating again.

Now what? "What is it?"

"You know how you said it would be easier if you warned me?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not."

John pauses, like he has to consider his response. "Yeah, but hey." Waits for Ronon to look over to him, and just gives him this look because he's _missing_ the damned  _point_. "Ronon. Your mom's alive, and she's waiting to see you."

And Ronon's trying out that smile again, the one like he knows what Christmas tastes like, tries to carry it all the way to the transporter.

The news has already spread through the city, and John feels the eyes because Ronon can't, not at the moment, because there are a lot of things the guy just can't deal with right now. Wonders how many others are hanging their hopes on the door at the end of the hallway.

Ronon freezes, outside the door, _of course he does_ , and he's not looking at John yet, and he's not asking, but John leans into him, a little so he doesn't have to.

"Want me to do it?"

"Yeah." It's all he can manage.

"Right." And John waves his hand up over the chime, figures he can press his luck enough to brush his arm against Ronon's as he brings it back down.

The door opens, and John wishes he'd taken a step back already, because he has no idea what Ronon's face looks like right now, how it compares to his mother's, and he wants to know that more than anything, but instead, he figures he should make introductions, just so someone starts talking.

"Ty Dex? Meet Ronon, ah. Dex. Ronon, meet Ty. Don't shoot her this time."

They're all frozen there, for a minute, and John steps back a little now, nudges Ronon forward a little, and that's all the push that the moment needed, because he's stepping into her arms and John can barely see her over his shoulder, just her arms wrapping tight around his back, and someone's starting to sob, so John looks away, checks the hall to make sure he's the only voyeur here.

He's not, he catches Banks ducking back into the lounge, looking smitten with life, and he's pretty sure he should never have to witness that, so he turns back, coughs, might mention something about moving this inside.

Ronon's giggling like he's lost his mind, and he's flushed and happy, but he can still follow orders when he's stupid, and he breaks away for a minute. Follows his mother into her room and spins when he feels John's not right there behind him like he's supposed to be.

"I've got to check in with Woolsey, do the debriefing, let you guys catch up. You'll be alright?"

"Yeah," Ronon says, frenetic and awkward, like he wasn't expecting to go in alone but he's not going to ask.

"You guys come find me when you want to grab dinner, how's that sound," John offers, because at least one of them should be able to come up with an out, and it's the only one he can think of that will get him out of here before he starts walking around with that idiotic look Banks is probably still wearing.

Ronon nods, schooling his features into a promise, and John turns away, realizing that he's grinning like a moron anyway.

Decides to go find McKay, because if he tells him first, he's just updating his teammate on important developments, and not gossiping like a fifteen year-old girl.  
\---

McKay's pissed, but John hasn't figured out if it's because he thinks he's the last to hear, or because John's wasting his time with this idiotic nonsense. Little of both, maybe, but McKay will reschedule his very important science for half an hour to _come down there and make sure the rest of you idiots haven't been taken over by some alien brainwashing entity._

Teyla's on the mainland, and Sheppard's missing her, because by the time he's made it back to his office, he's heard one too many squeals and three too many questions that he himself wasn't planning on asking, let alone fielding.

They're all along the lines of _do you think he'll stay here? Why would he? If it was your family…  
_  
He being an asshole for the third time in a day, he knows it, and right now, Teyla's pretty much the only one he could admit it to.

Loses himself in paperwork for a while, but he quits, decides that he's too useless for it, heads back to his room. Tries to read a five-issues-old Golf magazine, but he hasn't cared about the game in four months.

Stares at the wall a bit, pretends like he's not waiting for the door to chime.  
\---

The door doesn't chime, but his radio chirps, and he's online again, he's out the door, making his way to the mess.

Grabs his food, a bottle of water, because coffee would just get spilled all over the damned place.  Pretends for nine seconds not to notice Ronon leaning over to listen to a woman who isn't Teyla, tracking his progress across the room.

Apart from the disbelief that hasn't yet made it out of Ronon's eyes, they've got the same damned smirk, but Ronon's kicking the chair out directly across the table from himself, and brushes his foot accidentally against John's when he sits down.

"John Sheppard," Ronon begins, with no hint of irony in his voice, but at least he's moved on past the yeahs from before. "Meet Ty Dex, my mother. Mother, this is John Sheppard. They shake hands here, too," he advises, sounds a little excited.  Like he's never been able to explain Earth culture to anyone else before. _Guess he hasn't._ "Weird, huh?'

"Nice to meet you," John says, takes her hand across the table, and her grip's firm and this isn't as awkward as he's pretty sure it's supposed to be. "Again." It's worse.

"It is nice to meet you as well, John Sheppard,"

"Call me John." He can't stop studying her. She's not Ronon's height, but she's tall, and her hair used to be dark, but it's fading to white, and he spots a knife dangling behind her ear. Wants to ask how many Satedans injure themselves shrugging.

"And I am Ty," and her eyes are intense, returning John's scrutiny, but she's making an effort to get past it. "So, Ronon's told me how you all met. How you are the reason he is no longer a runner," she says, like she's still testing out the concept.

"Yeah. Took us hostage."

"You didn't tell me _that_ ," Ty spins on Ronon, who's sheepish, and it takes a minute to realize that parental humiliation might just be the only interplanetary credit card, and John just loses it.

"It's all right. He's apologized since. Saved our asses a few times since, so we're even."

"Good." Ty is distracted, and Ronon's gone from looking thrown to absolutely horrified, so John turns to follow their gaze to see McKay steamrolling through the mess towards them. Kicks Ronon a little under the table under the guise of making room, and sits back to wait for the next act to begin.

 **3.**

Right now, the attention is off of him for a minute, so Ronon spares a moment trying to guess how this _new-fucked-strange-happy_ situation will fall apart. Wonders if that's the normal reaction. Because he knows, now, that it's really her. It's not some ruse, not some wraith trick. It's not the universe coming through to fuck with him. At least it doesn't feel that way.

Maybe they're all hallucinating this. Considers asking McKay about it. Maybe they've slipped universes and didn't realize it, or maybe she did. _She's not supposed to be here and she is_. It's a lot harder to understand than _she's supposed to be here and she isn't._

But right now isn't the time, because McKay's introducing himself to his mother, and now Ronon has to worry about all the ways this _conversation_ is going to fall apart, as well.  
\---

"So, forgive me for saying so, but no one thought you survived the fall of Sateda," McKay begins, and shifts a bit, like he's just been kicked under the table. Glances sideways at John, and back to Ty.

"It would have been the more likely reality," Ty agrees. "I was offworld when it happened," she shrugs, drinks some coffee, though she obviously doesn't care much for the taste. Ronon wonders if she's going to go into detail again. Doesn't want to have to watch their faces when she says she was off shopping for his wedding blanket.

"I came back, saw what had happened, and returned to Bavno. Found a place to stay, found some work, and decided to remain there. I never planned to leave again." She grins. "Barring unforeseen good reason."  
\---

When it finally hits, when the layer of shock finally starts to fade, he's alone in his room, dressing for sleep. Finishes pulling up the flannel pants and sits, staring, as he realizes that he doesn't have to worry, anymore, about it not being true.

Doesn't know why it doesn't make him feel any better.

He stalks out towards the balcony, but it's not nearly low enough. Hops over to a nearby catwalk and down the steps. Keeps going until he hits the pier, and begins to run. Takes him too long to hit his stride- it's not satisfying, and he wasn't wearing his boots.

He stares, for a while, back to the city from the farthest edge of the pier and imagines falling backwards. Wonders if the city will let him fall, and it's irritating, this want that he has, to leave, to run, to evade all of this.

Wonders if this is the punch line, if this is the planned result.  
\---

John stares at the ceiling, pretends not to think about all the ways things are going to fall apart, so when the chimes sound, he already knows what he'll find on the other side of the door.

Ronon, alone in the hallway in his flannel sleep pants and a T-shirt, collar stretched all out of shape, arms around his midsection, face closing in on half-awake misery. Not at all looking like he's packed his bags and is just stopping in to say goodbye.

It's somewhere past two in the morning, far too late for talking, or for lights, so they stay off as John ushers Ronon inside and towards the bed. He can smell the ocean in Ronon's hair, feel the damp chill of the air leaving his skin when he brushes past.

He gets Ronon situated, pulls the covers up, and starts to extend his arm, but Ronon's already rolling into him, burying his face in the pillow next to John's ear.

John thinks he might only want to sleep, but Ronon starts to speak, more haltingly than he's supposed to.

"I never looked for her. Just gave up on her and let the wraith get me. Get to me. I've killed my own people. How am I supposed to keep facing her?"

"Same as you did today."

Ronon's answer, when it comes, is hesitant silence, so John pulls a little closer, holds a little tighter. Kisses skin when he finds it, but it's not about that.

"Look. Ah. You'll figure it out. It's gonna be alright."

It doesn't work. Ronon's tense, still. Like there's something more he doesn't want to say. And he's dodging John's eyes like he doesn't want John asking. John asks anyway.

"What is it?"  
\---

From here, Ronon can see the stubble creeping up the side of John's throat, and it's safer to look at than John's eyes are.

"She hasn't changed. It's weird."

"She's your mother. Still the same person she used to be." John points out, but Ronon's shaking his head. Wraps his hand around John's shoulder a little tighter, trying to will John into understanding.

It doesn't work, so he has to speak. "But I'm not." _Not the son she remembers. Not the son she loved._

"Well, you've been through a lot in ten years. Running, fighting. All that."

Ronon nods. That's not all of it, but how he's supposed to add _turning into someone who would lie here like this with you_ , or _less than a month ago, I would have killed you just to amuse the wraith_ , Ronon can't figure. Feels shitty enough just thinking about it.

"You don't have to tell her everything. About being under control of the wraith," John's talking like he doesn't realize he's pulled the worries right out of Ronon's head. It's just something he does sometimes. When he forgets to be oblivious. "Or. Y'know. About us," he's talking quietly.  Trying to show that he could disavow their relationship if Ronon needs him to. 

"But I should."  
\---

"That's entirely up to you. I'll back you either way." Ronon shrugs, and it's a little insulting, but he's starting to understand something he'll never ever say to Ronon.

Right now, John fucking hates Sateda.

Presses his face into Ronon's hair, feels that his breathing's finally starting to even out. He's not asleep, yet, but he's close, and John thinks the words like he would speak them if he could.

 _Sateda just rears it's head every once in a while to knock you on your ass, just to see if you'll stand up again, come back for more. See how much you can fight and survive._

He pulls away a little, and sets the alarm for _too damned early_. Ronon shouldn't be here when Atlantis wakes, wasn't supposed to be here at all tonight, but John's glad that he is.  
\---

They're with him, sitting on the balcony bench, Ty and John, when Torren comes out to join them. And, oh yes, that's Teyla carrying him, but Torren's taking over the conversation the way every newborn in every galaxy has done from time immemorial.

And it's welcome relief, Ronon decides, at least at first, even if Mother is threatening to entertain them all with stories from his childhood. Even as embarrassing as this sounds, it's still a relief, because, hell. _She's here to tell them.  
_  
So it's all right, up until Mother, beaming with a baby on her lap turns over to him and asks, "So, Ronon, have you thought about having any children of your own yet?"

It rolls off of Teyla, she's playing with Torren's tiny hand, but Ronon feels John go still beside him, but right now, he can't turn to read his face.

"Ah. No. Haven't thought about it."

"Have you met anyone?"

Ronon sighs. This one, he can answer. "Yes." Finds himself wanting to cough, like what he's going to say next should be heard more clearly than it's going to be. "Ah. Mother. I."

Teyla is paying attention, it seems, because she rises, making her excuses, and takes Torren with her when she leaves. Manages to do all of this without seeming obvious or rude.

John moves to follow, but Ronon's hand tugs at the back of his shirt, pulls him back down to the bench, and from the look spreading across his mother's face, he probably doesn't need to say anything at all.

But he does, anyway. Because as much as he wants to run, John was just about to start, and if he's about to fuck everything up, he wants John here. It's just easier than having to explain it later. Saves time.

"I already have." His mother's almost got that same expression she had so long ago, when he came home early to tell her that he would be marrying Melena, that she accepted the arrangement. Having made the arrangements herself, with Melena's mother, she'd already known. But she'd been thrilled to hear it from him anyway.

This time, she knows nothing, and this is where the difference lies. Why she's looking so anticipatory. It's going to suck when he wipes that expression off her face, and he memorizes it. This might be the last time she smiles at him.

He's not looking, but his hand finds John's unerringly. John squeezes back and holds on, but beyond that, he's still. Tense and waiting like a coiled wire. "I. He. We're together. I love him."

 **4.**

From time to time, Ty wonders what it would be like to see Ronon smiling and happy and in love. Imagines what she'll say when she sees it. Comes up with all sorts of brilliant things to say. Entire conversations that she should have been able to have.

Up until now, it's a lonely delusion, so she's never spoken of it.

Right now, though, Ronon, her son, is trying not to shirk away from her eyes, and she's puzzled for a moment. Can't figure out what he sees there that's so terrible.

Then she gets it.

She moves her eyes first, locking on their clutching hands. Lets it sink in. Decides that there's nothing to fear, here, but that she's the only one that knows that, because she hasn't said anything yet.

"That's." She looks up, sees John. He's not even looking at her, he's staring at Ronon's face, concerned, and that just seals it. "That's wonderful, Ronon." Smiles again, and she's _beaming_ already, but there's more. " _Both_ of you," she adds, because John was there, holding hands with her son and staring at him like he'd take on a wraith for him, and one doddering old woman would be as nothing in comparison. Thinks about saying something along the lines of _he's cute, Ronon. I don't blame you in the least_ , but doesn't.

They're not at the point of joking. Not yet.

She catches Ronon glancing away, chin tucking into his chest, and he's smiling and squinting over shining eyes. Like he started to do when he was nine and decided he was too old to act his age. John, too, decides to pretend not to notice, and looks back at her, looking like he has no idea what he's supposed to say.

Ty wonders how they do these things on Earth. Decides she can get away with nosy questioning for a moment or two.

"How long have you been with each other?"

"Little over a year, Satedan," John says, and somehow, that measurement, that small, insignificant detail, that he knows that time was different, there, tells her everything she needs to know. She's surprised that it makes her laugh, though.

Ronon's quirking her eyebrow at her, and looking _just like his father_ , so she shakes her head. Shrugs it off.

"I. Ah. Didn't think you'd react like this," Ronon starts, instead of saying _why don't you hate me_ or I _was expecting to fight for this._

"If he did not love you, he would not have brought us together."

"Not what I meant."

"Ah. You mean. You're both men?"

"Yeah."

"I've thought for years that you were _dead_ , Ronon. Everything else is _nothing_." She forces herself to stop there. It all sounds like it's coming out wrong. Like it's just something she's supposed to say. "You remember your uncle? Lej?"

"Yes. Also remember what happened to him," Ronon is trying to keep the accusation out of his voice.

"As do I. I tried to stop it, but the laws were the laws. I couldn't do anything."

"I remember," Ronon nods. Looks over at John for a second, and their eyes only meet for a moment, but they're having an entire conversation, there on the bench. Just long enough for Ty to notice the warmth of the sun on her skin, the pleasant breeze coming from all that ocean.

"I, ah," John begins, almost apologetically, like he doesn't think he's part of this conversation. Only takes eye contact and a grin to get him going, though. "Here, the laws are different. But we still can't really tell anyone. They'd send me back to Earth, so…"

"So I should not go around asking questions about it, or telling anyone?" It's just a guess, but John's stare is breaking into surprised laughter, and she thinks she has it right.

Ronon's stomach rumbles, Ty can hear it from here, so it must be time to go back inside for the midday meal.  
\---

Ty wakes from her nap and finds herself in the city of the Ancestors. Gets out of bed like it's no big deal, at least until she walks out into the hallway and sees all the people, here. It's overwhelming.  She waves to a few of them. There are so many people _so happy to meet_ her that it's getting embarrassing. She hasn't remembered half of their names, so she doesn't know who to ask for directions. It's just occurring to her that she might be getting herself lost.

 _"Don't worry about it," Ronon says. "McKay's been here for years and hasn't figured out the names of most of his own staff. They're used to it," and he leads her out of the mess hall and towards the balcony. She wants to see his quarters, but she doesn't press the issue, not yet, because the view out here. All that ocean and sunlight. It's amazing._

"Hello Missus Dex," one of the soldiers says. It's Major Lorne, the cute one. With the dimples. "How are you today?"

"Please, call me Ty. And I am fine, thank you. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Where are you off to?"

"I am trying to locate my son," she says, and the words seem so strange falling from her mouth so calmly, since they were ten years overdue.

"Probably in the gym, sparring. I'll walk you down there, if you'd like," he offers, turning the opposite direction down the hallway and managing not to point out how far off course she was.

She gets him talking, a little, about his home, and about art, and reminds herself to ask Ronon if he still paints.

They arrive at another heavy door, though, and as it opens, the thought is erased, startled from her mind.

Ronon is fighting with another soldier, throwing himself into the violence like there's nothing else worth considering. His eyes are feral, almost, but they're concentrated, gleaming as he tosses the soldier over his back.

She's almost moving forward, into the room, but she stops. Major Lorne isn't moving, and, to look at the grin on his face, he is not at all worried about any of this. Like he sees it every day.

 _He probably does._

She forces herself to watch, some more, to learn more about what she's seeing before taking action. Before going in there to calm him down. Because Ronon is a good fighter, has been ever since his second or third year of training, she knew this already.

But she's never seen it. Never watched him like she's watching him now, wild but careful. Rolling with every hit the soldier manages to make.

He fought for Sateda, until he couldn't any more. Then he fought, alone, against the wraith for years.

She knows that it's changed him. Sees glimpses. He's quieter, now. More watchful. Unafraid but wary, all at once.

 _"Shoots first and asks questions later, and it's saved our asses more than once," Doctor McKay said, shoveling bread into his mouth._

"This, I am aware of," Ty responded, remembering the feeling of being stunned, the disbelief on Ronon's face when he'd pulled the trigger. She smiled, though, deliberately softening the blow, not wanting Ronon to begin apologizing-at great heartfelt length- again.

He hasn't sung once, at least not in her presence, not since she's been here. Hasn't gotten all the notes wrong while humming to himself in the space between conversations. Ty suspects he hasn't in a long time.

"He fights well," she manages to say, because the soldier is back on his feet, manages to kick Ronon's knee out from under him, and Ronon's smiling almost proudly as he picks himself up from the mat, and there's laughter in the room as he starts talking to the soldiers. He's teaching them, and it's amazing, somehow, because he might not sing to everyone anymore, but he's not alone, either.

"Yes he does," Major Lorne nods, shrugs as he grins. "Been pushing himself pretty hard ever since the entire wraith worshipping thing."

"The what?"  
\---

Ronon looks up in time to see his mother hurrying from the room. Sees Major Lorne looking towards the door with a face shifting from puzzled to horrified. Doesn't know what's happened, but he needs to go after her. _Now_.

Wraps up the training session, leaves the soldiers to practice on their own, and he's heading towards Lorne. Doesn't even dry the sweat from his skin first.

"What's up?"

"I. Ah. I'm guessing your mom didn't know about the wraith fucking with your head," Lorne offers, pulling back with a grimace like he knows he fucked up. Hears him calling as he's striding through the door. Offering apologies.

Ronon hurries to the transporter, goes up the hallway to the guest quarters. Waves his hand, hears the chime, but she doesn't answer, and the silence is a punch in the gut.

Katie Brown is coming down the hall, and he can't to make a scene. Doesn't know what to do but he has to do _something_ because it's all falling apart again. Now he knows. _This_ is what will ruin everything-so he starts walking again.

Isn't sure where he's going until he's there. Until Kanaan's opening the door, face turning worried as he steps back to let him in. He glances back and sees Kanaan stepping towards the cradle, taking Torren with him to the far corner of the room, looking out the window with him. Trying to give them some privacy, because he's probably already figured that Ronon's not here to talk about their next hunting trip.

Teyla waves him to the floor next to her, sets the knives she was sharpening to the side.

"Ronon, what is the matter?"

"My mother. She knows the wraith had me."

"But you are better," Teyla insists. "Surely she must see it."

"Don't know. She's not opening her door. She ran from the room like she was afraid of me." _Because she should be. Ashamed, too._

"I am truly sorry. Have you spoken to John about this?"

"Can't. Not now, he's meeting with Woolsey for another hour or so. I just."   _Didn't know where else to go_. He shrugs the rest so he doesn't have to say it. _I had to tell someone._

"You are welcome to stay here until he is finished."

This is stupid. "Thanks, but." He stands again, not really feeling any better. "Think I'm going to hang in my quarters for a while. If you see John?"

"I will inform him when I see him."

"Thanks." He nods, heads to the door again.

"Ronon," Teyla calls, but she's picking up a knife again, holding it against the stone. "It will be alright. Do not worry."

"Okay," he says, nods again, like the motion alone will make it so, and leaves.  
\---

"Are you okay?" John barrels into the room to find Ronon hunched against the side of the bed, hair hanging over his face, his knees. Looking _not okay._

Ronon hasn't looked up yet, not even when he must have heard the door opening, that's the unsettling part, but he shakes his head. At least he knows John's there.

John sits on the bed, carefully touches his leg against Ronon's side, in case he's wound too tight to allow the contact. He's not, leans against John like he wants it, at least a little, but he hasn't looked up, yet.

"She's afraid of me."

"We'll talk to her."

"She won't allow it. Wouldn't open her door. She won't leave her room."

"She already has. Woolsey and Keller are talking to her right now. They're on it."

"What if," Ronon doesn't finish, but John can fill in the blanks. _What if she convinces them that you're a threat? What if she tells them about us? What if she's already left, and you never get to see her again?_

John slides off the bed, down to the floor, puts an arm around Ronon's back, holds him close. Doesn't really have any other ideas. Ronon lifts his head and tilts the hair out of his face, though. His eyes are expressionless when they open, but he shakes his head and smirks mirthlessly.

John suppresses another yawn. It's early, yet, but if the arm sliding down to the floor is any indication, he actually is tired. Manages to shift once, winds up with his head on Ronon's thigh, Ronon's hand threading through the hair at the base of his neck, and figures he might as well sleep for a while.  
\---

"You should talk to your son," Mister Woolsey says, and it's the first confident statement she's heard from him all day. Doctor Keller is nodding along as well. "I believe he's the one to best answer your questions. We can send along a guard if it makes you feel better."

"Thank you," Ty bows her head and rises, mind still picking through the scattered information they've been throwing at it for the past while.

Major Lorne's called into the room, escorts her to Ronon's. This time, he doesn't talk about art. Doesn't say anything much at all, but his stance is apologetic.

They arrive at another closed door, and she realizes she's staring when Lorne asks, "Would you like me to go in there with you, ma'am?" Like she's afraid of what she's going to find inside.

And she is, she'll admit that much to herself. But she's really just pausing, because she's about to step through the door and see the home that her son has made for himself here, living in the Ancestral city of Atlantis, of all places. A place she never truly believed existed, not even when her father told her the stories.

It's all just a bit too much, but she's not going to show it.

"No, thank you. I will be fine."

"I'll be out here. Just shout if you need me, okay?"

"Thank you." Lorne is nodding to some soldiers as they pass, waits for a moment, and steps in front of her to wave his hand over the control. Apparently he's satisfied with what he sees inside the room, because he steps aside. He's grinning when he turns away.

Ronon is sitting on the floor, back against the bed, and cradling John's sleeping head in his lap. Has a hand on his throat, but it's showing none of the viciousness she'd seen earlier in the gym. Instead it's calming, protective, like it's frozen in mid-stroke over the side of John's neck.

Because Ronon's staring at her, and he's not moving. At all.

She steps into the room, spins to watch the door glide shut softly behind her. Ronon's shaking John awake gently when she turns back, his hand sliding down to his collar to do so.

She looks away, studies the painting on the wall. It's the brightest thing in an otherwise drab room, but it's familiar. Staring at it gives her a minute to rehearse her questions. Winds up making her reconsider them, too.

Because Colonel John Sheppard is the military leader of this city. He is responsible for the lives of all of his people, and he trusts Ronon enough to fall asleep with his hand on his throat.

It's more convincing than every defense that simpering Doctor had given her, every logical argument that Mister Woolsey had put forth.

Once John is sitting up on his own, blinking once and beginning to look like he wants to start an argument with her, she begins to speak.

"I am sorry about earlier. I overreacted."

"There's a lot of that going around this week," John says, grinning, and he's standing like he's decided two things. One, that things are going to be okay here, and two, that Ronon can handle them. He looks down at Ronon once, though, leans close, only he's not whispering anything to him, he's kissing him. Quickly, then pulling away, ducking his head sheepishly as he passes. His eyes, though, are still serious. Appraising.

Ronon stands too, winds up sitting on the bed. She takes the chair next to it.

"I didn't know. Earlier. That anyone could recover from being under the wraith's thrall."

"I didn't either. It's still." Ronon breaks off like he doesn't want to admit it. "It's getting easier, though."

"Good. Gods, I am sorry, though." And sometime soon, she'll ask him about it. But not right now.

"It's okay."

"I should have talked to you first. Not Mister Woolsey and that nervous doctor woman." This makes Ronon laugh, like she hoped it would, and she cast her eyes around the room again. "That painting," she nods towards it. "It's from the museum."

"Yeah. I." Ronon scratches at his hair, considering it. "I went back. A while ago. Retrieved some stuff."

"You looted our museum. As councilwoman, I should probably have you arrested."

"Pretty sure I could escape, since the jail's missing half it's walls."

"Then I suppose I will let the transgression slide with only a warning."

"Thanks."

The conversation hangs there, as obvious as the painting, for some time. Scans the room again, sees a vase on the table that makes her breath stop.

Ronon turns to follow her gaze, smiles when he finds out what's causing it. Reaches over to the nightstand to pick the vase up.

"Looted this too,' Ronon hands it over. "Wasn't much else left there, though. The house is gone."

"I figured as much," she turns the vase over in her hands, traces the leaves painted on the side of it. The back side of it is burned, marring the finish, but it's still in one piece.

She hands it back, but Ronon shakes his head. "Keep it. Just made sense to bring it back here. Otherwise, it was just silverware and pots and pans. I never liked the thing."

"Your instructor did." She turns it over, looks at the scrawl carved into the base. _Ronon Dex. First Level._

"Yeah, well. Sheppard thought I brought it back from the museum with the other stuff, so _that's_ what he thinks all Satedan pottery is supposed to look like that."

"It will look lovely on the mantle above the fireplace," she decides, because at this point, this is what traditional Satedan pottery looks like. M _ight be the only example of it in the galaxy._

The door chimes again, and John's standing in the hallway, asking if they're ready to eat, pretending like he's not checking up on them. Even Ty can see the tension falling from his face, probably at finding them both in one piece.

Ronon's grinning, either at the prospect of John, or the prospect of food, and he rises from the bed.

Ty's eyes are still focused on the blanket as she stands. Thinks about the box she has, sitting in the back of her closet back home. She hasn't touched it in years, but she thinks, when she returns, that she'll open it again. Pull out the blanket that she bought for her son's wedding, years ago.

It might brighten up the room a little.  



End file.
